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"Man, I'd really like to get into programming like you are. How did you learn all that shit? How would I, a simple mortal, be a big bad programmer like Captian Hard-Guss?" "Well," I said, "You really have to love it. You have to spend every day in front of a computer. Buy books, and for fun you need to program. Even when you aren't working you have to learn in your spare time." "Yeah, but how did YOU do it? How do I get a job like you have?" "You just have to do it. You have to put your nose to the grindstone and never relent. Every day you have to live and breathe it. You have to bust your ass until you succeed." "Yeah," he said, seemingly deep in thought. "Do you want to stop at my house and smoke a joint?" For the record, my friend is a good guy and has a good job, but I have always felt that this story is the perfect parable for success. All of us, deep down, feel like we deserve success, but we are rarely willing to do what it takes to achieve it. We look at those who are successful and justify in our minds why we are not them. We sneer at how their daddies handed them their job, or how a woman's nice rack is why she is where she is, or how someone's lack of scruples elevates them to a position above ourselves. But that's all bullshit. I have been writing for a long time. Even before I considered myself A Writer, I was a writer. I wrote short stories, I wrote down my dreams, and I kept a journal. I picked up magazines and cringed at the bad writing. "I can do better than that," I thought to myself. With the explosion of the internet my resentment grew. I marveled at all of the bad writing and the legions of adoring fans who flocked to sites with criminally untalented writers. What gives? I think the Field of Dreams sentiment, "If you build it they will come," is one of the most damaging platitudes ever conceived. If you build it, maybe if you're really lucky they will come, but most of the time you have to do a lot of unpleasant work. I have been jealous of Seanbaby ever since I discovered his site. He is a great writer, and has leveraged his internet success into the "real world" of magazine articles and now even television appearances. Plus chicks dig him. What makes Seanbaby so special? What does he have that I don't? Is he just lucky? Maybe he's a better writer than me. Maybe he's better looking than me. Maybe he's funnier, faster, stronger, and has brighter hair than me. Or maybe he's just the guy in the car who kept his nose to the grindstone rather than staying at home and smoking the joint. So what does all of this have to do with Six Ten Split? Six Ten Split is a New Orleans rock music magazine. Their first issue featured Pleasure Club, and I like them a lot so it grabbed my attention. I decided that I liked the magazine, and since it was new they might be receptive to a somewhat green writer contributing. I emailed them a crazy rambling message and linked some of my adventure stories from this site. They expressed some interest but didn't really seem willing to commit. Over the next month or so I emailed them a few more times. I was persistent, perhaps more so than is polite, but it paid off. After pitching a couple of potential shows to review, they agreed on Liquidrone. It was a small column, 400 words, but still something in print. Something somehow more real than what I put on the internet. So we're caught up. This month's Six Ten Split should be out today with Rock City Morgue on the cover. My column, The Buzz, debuts in this issue. It isn't an earthshaking accomplishment, but it is something. It is something more than sitting around daydreaming about being published. They are happy with what I have done so far and I should be contributing to the magazine regularly. Also, mark May 7th on your calendar. Six Ten Split is hosting a show at One Eyed Jack's with The Public, The Fantastic Ooze, and Love & Stereo. I will be there, and if you buy me enough drinks I'll be sure to put the hazy apparition that looks like you into my story. Postscriptum: The weed in this story is really a metaphor (even though it actually happened as written). I quote The Three Amigos: "For some of us, poverty is our El Guapo...for others, ignorance is our El Guapo...or hunger is our El Guapo... "In our case our El Guapo is a big scary guy that's wants to kill us..." Also, I'm pretty sure Seanbaby smokes a lot of weed. Permalink to this post. |
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And it's true. I don't think I have seen any other scene with adherents so dedicated. Except for maybe a cult. Some of the bands aren't bad, but for the most part I haven't really been too into the music. The bands are usually not something I would choose to watch were it not for the promise of legions of girls with 36-24-35 measurements and Bettie Page haircuts. Because of this promise, I have been to my fair share of rockabilly shows. But I have always felt like a tourist at these shows. Like a tagger-on. A poser. And the kiss of death is when the girl inevitably asks me what kind of music I like. I cannot lie. Aerosmith, Ween, and PJ Harvey is not a particularly impressive answer to these girls. I saw a lot of interesting things while in San Francisco. I saw a Pet Store crammed between two restaurants in China Town. I saw the arcade museum, where you could insert a quarter into a mechanical device and see a simulated hanging. I saw Alcatraz on the horizen. I saw the Six Sisters. And I saw the Phenomenauts. "Hey John," Tony said the previous night, "There's a psychobilly show at the DNA Lounge...There should be plenty of hot rockabilly chicks there." And there were. Vodka Red Bull was my drink for the night. I decided that I was going to call every girl I met "Sweetie". The Phenomenauts immediately grabbed my attention. Their show was non-stop energy. Their stage presence reminded me a lot of Glorybee. And while they had a similar "clusterfuck" sound, theirs was much more tight and disciplined than Glorybee. They drifted back and forth between punk and rockabilly without sounding forced, and they had a solid pop sensibility, which made them likeable to the rabble such as myself. Sweetie leaned over to me and started a conversation. "Hey you," she said conspiratorially, "I think I might be drunk." She looked around as if to ensure that no one had overheard her. "You know," I whispered (or as close to a whisper you can get with a band playing), "I think I might just be drunk as well." I put my finger to my lips to keep it between the two of us. I used to call "I'm drunk" the Southern Mating Call, but apparently it also applies to the west coast. Sweetie had the full blown rockabilly look. The 50's dress, the white skin, the obligatory Bettie Page haircut (in some circles it is called the Goth Mullet), and a flower in her hair. "Tony," I asked Tony, "Is Sweetie hot?" Of course she looked hot to me, but I needed the opinion of someone at least 3 drinks behind me to corroborate. "Oh yeah," he said, "She's a hottie." One of the Phenomenauts pulled out a gun-like device with a fan and a roll of toilet paper. He turned it on and toilet paper shot across the audience like Peter North following a month in the monastery. The singer shouted through his megaphone, and you could actually hear a catchy melody. The drummer kept the foundation going. The bass player slammed on the strings, and you could actually hear it. One of my peeves with the upright bass is that it is usually inaudible mud, only there for the visual cool-points. It is hard as hell to mic or get the right pickups, but this guy's upright sounded great. It was actually part of the music rather than being a subtle "blat blat" in the background. Niki bit both of my biceps. Hard. I would carry these bruises for over a week, prompting many snide comments about my weekend in San Francisco. "Do you like the Phenomenauts?" asked Sweetie. It was a beautiful thing, my friends. "Yes," I said. Oh my God. I now officially liked a psychobilly band. And not even a big name mainstream band, but an up and coming band that you have to see in San Francisco. My rockabilly street cred shot through the roof. 8 out of 10, incidentally. Outside of the show I invented what would become one of my best moves. A guy was hitting on Sweetie and she was clearly uninterested. I stumbled over and put my arm around the guy. I started calling him Sweetie. Over his shoulder I winked at the REAL Sweetie. My drunken hijinks eventually ran him off. "So it looks like I'm going to need your number," I said to Sweetie. She gave me her number. "And you know what?" I said, "I am going to save it as Sweetie." Permalink to this post. |
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But then I discovered that Bob Log was playing in Ybor City, Tampa, and I was re-happy. Then I got sent to Orlando and I was sad again. Last night I decided that nothing was going to get in the way of my enjoyment of Bob Log, not even a 1.5 hour drive. This time he had dancers...I couldn't quite figure out if they were specifically his dancers, or if they were a dance duo that toured with him and just happened to do a few songs with him. I think the latter. Even though the crowd was smaller at this show, they seemed to me more into it and swarmed around the stage. He really knows how to work an audience and I learned a lot from watching him last night. He played an extremely long version of Boob Scotch. What was interesting is that he played about a 10 minute buildup to it, he'd kick out some guitar work and drums and then play a few bars of Boob Scotch and then go back to jamming. When he finally kicked into Boob Scotch it rocked hard. After Boob Scotch he did another jam which slowly worked its way back into Boob Scotch. Check out his tour dates. If he's coming to your town I highly recommend you go and see the show. Permalink to this post. |
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Their live show, however, is a totally different story. While their CD was horn heavy and fusion-y, their live show was more of a pared down rock and roll. It is hard to pin them down like that, though, as their songs are very eclectic and varied. As you can see in the picture, the guitar player plays a banjo on one song. He runs it through some electronics and gets a very badass sound. As he does in Bingo, Clint brings a lot of visuals into the show. In the picture you can see his spinning light toys. Between those, the video projection, and their high energy performance it is a lot of fun to watch. Their guitar player, in particular, is extremely animated. Liquidrone actually got Chrissy's seal of approval, which is pretty rare for a band that I like. So far everyone I have introduced to them has been very impressed. The first few times I saw them was at Circle Bar and the Dragon's Den, which are both very small clubs with mediocre sound. This last show was at One Eyed Jack's (El Matador reborn in the location of the old Shim Sham Club). One Eyed Jack's is quite large and has a good sound system. It really made a difference in the quality of the show. This show kicked everyone's ass. From what I understand they have other CDs out besides the one I have. I'm going to have to pick them up to find out if they were able to capture any of their live feel one one of them. In conclusion: Great show. My ass still hurts. 9 out of 10. Permalink to this post. |
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My friend Tony said this to me. It hadn't occurred to me, but I realized that he is right. There is a distinctive style forming, or perhaps it has always been here and I didn't know. The words that come to mind are quirky, carnival, and vaudeville. And as he pointed out, "no guitars". Whatever it is, Baby Rosebud is definitely part of it. Baby Rosebud consists of two girls, one playing drums and the other playing an accorgan. An accorgan is apparently some sort of now defunct instrument that is a combination of accordian and analog synth. It has a very distinctive sound. They were all instrumental, and occasionally the drummer would play with her feet while using her hands on a synth. They frequently changed tempos, rhythms, and feels midstream. Those changes are what really brought me into it. Their music is definitely not mosh music, or high energy hands in the air fare, but neither it is pretentious navel gazing drivel. It is interesting to hear, and interesting to watch. Of course, I have to be honest here, it might just be interesting for me to watch because I've always had a crush on the drummer. (She used to bartend at El Matador). Thinking about this band, Bingo!, and Quintron has made me want to incorporate some of these "New Orleans Vaudeville" elements into my stuff. As it is I'm a pretty straightforward rock guy. But I'm supposed to be talking about Baby Rosebud. They're good. 7 out of 10. Permalink to this post. |
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